(Tragic) Magic
by timtom
Summary: Part 4 of Moving Maeve series where Derek and Spencer meet each other's families (sort of) and profess their love for each other (finally!)


NOTE: Sorry about the dodgy update before! It should be fine now :)

Thank you guys for the overwhelming support and faith that you had in me! I suddenly felt inspired seeing as it was valentines day tomorrow (well I guess now it's today). I'm also very rusty, so I'm sorry if they seem a bit out of character!

Recently betaed by me, but otherwise, no betas! All mistakes are mine.

* * *

Derek had always thought of Spencer as a special person, current relationship bias notwithstanding.

Sure, the kid could read 20,00 words per minute (although in the early mornings he had gotten a triumphant if tired phone call from the boy wonder claiming he had achieved a personal best of 21,533 words), earned more degrees than he's had relationships, and could perhaps beat him in a basketball game if he was given enough preparation time (although Derek is confident that probability is marginal – Spencer could be washed away by an aggressive wave at the beach, Derek won't put it past him to be lacking in the defence area in a one-on-one basketball game). But there was always something gorgeous about him, like the awareness found on another plane of existence – impossibly responsive and sensitive.

It was a trait that eventually earned Spencer the loving coos of all the females in Derek's family, when Derek had taken him to visit over three weeks ago. In the beginning Spencer had been uncharacteristically introverted, spouting facts spasmodically as if it were a side effect that only surfaced when Spencer was meeting the family members of his boyfriend. Sarah and Desiree had taken it all with an ounce of salt – literally – since they didn't care for the statistical ratios of failed and successful arson attempts while they were cooking, anyway. That is, of course, until Spencer got into the ante mortem quips about how many gallons of blood can escape your body before you actually lose consciousness. That was when Derek took him to the side and tried to talk him out of giving a live demonstration of an autopsy on the ham they were going to have that night.

Spencer's solid argument that _it's that or magic,_ _Derek _meant Derek had to kiss him for a long while, hiding in the broom closet in his childhood house, _for God's sake. _Although to be honest Derek couldn't find it in himself to complain one bit.

Upon leaving the closet (not looking debauched, at all), it was like Spencer was a changed man (like Narnia, not like the coming out story of a 15 year old). Having complimented each of Derek's family members in turn in that earnest and somehow charming way of his, Spencer had sat down to meticulously talk Derek's mother, Fran, through all of her son's achievements and idiosyncratic anecdotes up to this moment in his life. Especially those Derek thought was too inconsequential or embarrassing to ever tell his _mother, Jesus_.

In return, Spencer had the absolute pleasure of indulging on the infamous Morgan gingersnap cookies while being made privy to all of Derek's baby photos.

_All of them_.

There were stacks and stacks of them, the terrifying reminder of a Derek before he had found his calling and became a more physically compelling and intimidating BAU agent. But Spencer seemed drawn to this Derek; a scrawny but athletic child, who had always known right from wrong deep down, and learnt to stand up for it. But having been lapped up by the unjust waves of life at a tender age by curses of the likes of Carl Buford, his past was an area Derek didn't need people to encroach.

But this was different – these were snapshots of a simpler time, of a Derek that still found joy in being photographed on a swing, or blowing bubbles, or just posing in the front yard on his first day of school.

Derek could see the absolutely overflowing _delight_ on Spencer's face as his eyes darted from a photo of infantile Derek naked in a tub, bubble beard hiding his jovial grin, to one of prepubescent Derek, the iconic Red Afro Comb Phase of 1987 sharing the spotlight with his explosion of a mane, which crowded the outer frame of the photo. Derek could feel his face heating up, and _oh no, not the great_ _Clown Fiasco of Derek and Desiree_, Derek thinks as his mother launches into an enthusiastic spiel about the entire escapade, and Spencer was absolutely just _lapping it up_. There was no escape, this was it; this was the exact moment in Derek's life that will lead him into an early grave. Please, let what benevolent deities that actually exist, please just strike him dead on the spot. A bolt of lightning, a bus through the living room, anything will do, really, as long as that album goes flying out of Spencer's hands when the incident occurs.

Preferably into a burning blaze.

Not even Garcia knew about the Rhinestone Talent Show Incident, which was now immortalised as _Tragic Magic_ between him and Spencer (_"Hey kids at school used to call me that!"_), but somewhere between having all of the shameful bits of his childhood exposed and his dignity lightly stepped on, Derek felt like he was baring his soul to the one person he might care about more than anything, sitting in the large armchair across from Spencer and his mom while his sisters chatter in the kitchen. It's some sort of home, although what kind he's not sure yet, but warmth suffused his chest nonetheless, like every atom of his being is vibrating with how _right_ this is.

When Spencer looked up from the album, leant into Fran, and smiled like it was Christmas morning and all the cookies and milk he had fastidiously counted put out the previous night were gone, Derek just _knew_.

And yet, he didn't believe it.

* * *

Standing outside of an endearing cottage-like household, one hand on the gate, Spencer looked like he expected Derek to take off right then and there. Maybe it was the fact that Spencer hadn't wanted to take Derek to meet his mother, or maybe it was the fact that Spencer apparently believes that Derek's just going to uproot and vaporise, but it made Derek unbelievably nervous.

"Her name is Cassandra." Spencer had said casually, deft fingers leafing through the contents of the box.

"What?" Derek had asked, dumbly. The lack of a more intelligent response does not mean Derek had been distracted staring at Spencer's fingers.

"My relative. I want you to meet her. I mean, I've met your family already, so it seems fitting. Not that I think this is a trade off, or like we owe each other anything …" Spencer had replied, suddenly nervous. "You don't have to, if you don't want to. It's just I'd rather you meet Cassie instead of my mother, or before you meet my mother, I mean, that is if you want to ... meet … my mother."

Derek didn't like how Spencer was becoming more and more rigid with embarrassment and awkwardness, so he reached over and took his hands, which were trembling, and kisses each knuckle until it seemed like he had calmed down.

"Spencer, I would love to meet Cassandra."

So Spencer was the one who knocked on the door, but Derek was the one to shake hands with the woman first.

"You must be Cassandra. It's a pleasure to meet you." Derek had said, after she had released Spencer from a warm and affectionate hug. She was a lofty but young woman, perhaps in her early twenties. With a delicate air and mousy brown hair to boot, Derek hadn't thought too much of her relationship to Spencer. However, after shaking her hand vigorously, it was clear that –

"You're not Cassandra are you?" Derek asked, and the woman smiled a little sheepishly. Her expression was a mixture of rueful and amused.

"No … I'm Annie. But _firm_ handshake there, Derek, I'm assuming." She smiled, incandescent. "Spencer, you didn't tell me he was so … " She looked Derek up and down, appreciatively. "–Hunky."

Derek laughed, and Annie suddenly seemed contrite. "Oh I'm so sorry, that was so inappropriate!"

"It's alright, Annie." Spencer and Derek said at the same time. They exchanged looks, and Derek shook his head.

"Don't worry about it, ma'am. Let's say I've been acclimated to far worse." He grinned at her.

Annie smiled back, and then gave Spencer an inexplicable look. Spencer immediately flushed to the tips of his ears.

"Let's go inside." He said.

The house was bigger on the inside than the exterior led you to believe, and the hallway was lined with countless photographs. Derek noticed none of them were of the same child.

"Are these … do they all live here?" Derek asked, pointing to a photo of an African American girl with a pink feather boa, who appeared to be around 9.

"At some point." Annie nodded, leading them up the stairs, which was lit from a welcoming skylight. "The wall spans back decades."

Derek looked to Spencer, who smiled wanly at him, and took his hand as they ascended slowly.

"Cassandra is my niece. But when my aunt died when she was 4, there was no one to look after her. My mother was already in the sanatorium and the BAU work was too demanding, so she was put into foster care. I discovered this household, and found out that it took in children for any indefinite amount of time. She wasn't in the greatest foster environment before this place, but I knew this place could give her a better home, and it was in a low risk neighbourhood, it had reasonable fees for the government … all I had to do was the paper work, really. It was the least I could do as one of the last able bodied people of the family lineage." He said, looking at the stairs as he walked. Derek gently squeezed his hand when he finished speaking, as they were on the top floor and Annie was waiting patiently by a door in the lengthy hallway.

"You did well, Kid." Derek said, and Spencer glanced a smile at him.

"He's a good one." Annie smiled quietly. "You'd best look after him."

Derek squeezed Spencer's hand again, and looked at Annie. "What about you? Do you work here full time?"

Annie raised an eyebrow. "Work here? I _worked_ here when I was 15, this is my _home_ now." She walked over to a console table with a bouquet of flowers, and picked up a photo frame, wiping a hand over the glass pane with a nostalgic smile before she handed it to Derek.

In the photo there was a young girl with bouncy strawberry-blonde curls and cherub cheeks, dressed in an entirely pink outfit topped off with a gold star sticker under her right eye. Her green eyes seemed to sparkle as she hugged her companion tightly around the waist. However, it was clear the other girl wasn't as into taking photos as she was. The other girl was older, or perhaps just tall for her age, and seemed broodier with dyed raven black hair that was stark against her pale complexion. She had heavy eyeliner and a nose piercing as well as tattered black clothing on, and her lipstick was an intimidating shade of violet. She had her arms crossed and headphones in her ears, but there was sincerity to her smile, as little as it was. It was this girl that Annie pointed to.

"When I first got here I was a moody punk kid who didn't know any better. This place really showed me what a childhood should really be." She said with a smile that can only be described as sentimental. "I grew up here, and this place looked after me. I'm just giving back, it's really all I can do."

Derek smiled appreciatively, and felt the urge to thank her. For what specifically, Derek didn't know, but Annie nodded, as if she knew what he was saying. She put the photo back, and knocked on the door of the bedroom she had originally gone to.

"Cass? You have a visitor." She said, waiting. The room stayed silent and unresponsive, and Annie gave them a knowing look that Derek didn't understand. She knocked again. "Cassie, darling? Are you alright?" She asked, and although her voice sounded worried, her expression was amused and she was rolling her eyes. Immediately there came a loud, infectious laugh.

"Got you!" A young girl's voice yelled. Annie smiled at Spencer and Derek. _Every time_, she mouths. She opened the door to reveal a rather mismatched bedroom. The colours were more dissonant than he expected, but as he looked around, he noticed that everything was of a good quality – the chair's upholstery was plush golden velvet, the bed had two fluffy cushions in a lurid green, and there was a large textured multi-coloured rug on the floor. The girl was sitting by the desk on the far end of the room, and as she put her book down, Derek noticed she was bald. More than that, Derek noticed the machine she was hooked up to.

_Leukaemia_, Spencer mouths when Derek gives him a questioning look.

"Is it SpenceSpence?" The girl asked, her smile beaming, showing rows of perfect white teeth.

"Yes it is, hey CassCass." Spencer replied, going by to sit by the bed. "How are you going?"

"Oh you know, _comme çi comme ça_." She grinned. "I learned French, can you tell?"

Spencer put on an air of surprise. "Yes, very." He said good-naturedly. "Actually Cassie, I brought someone with me, and I want you to meet him."

If it were possible, Cassie appeared even more excited. "Ooh, is it the president? Mr President, I like that you live in a white house. But do you use Dulux?"

Derek couldn't help but laugh. Spencer smiled almost bashfully at him.

"Uh, no." He said. "His name is Derek Morgan."

"Oh. Hello Derek Morgan." Cassie smiled. "Can I touch your face?" She asked suddenly, without preamble, turning back to Derek. She said it with a tone that made it sound like the most natural thing to ask a new acquaintance.

It was then that Derek realized that although the irises of her eyes were the same colour of dark hazel as Spencer's, they were milky white in the centre.

She was blind.

"I don't know what you look like. I know what SpenceSpence looks like because he lets me touch his face." She said as-a-matter-of-fact-ly, when Derek took too long to respond.

"Oh, well in that case, wouldn't want to get shown off by _SpenceSpence_." He grins. Spencer rolls his eyes and moves to the other side of Cassie. "Alright Cassie, go for it." He says as he sits down by her.

She raises her hands, which are slighter and paler than Derek had anticipated, and hovered around his face, as if feeling the air there. Then her fingertips gently descended upon his skin, and it was so soft Derek could feel goose bumps rise along his arms.

She traversed the valleys of his face like she was stroking the fragile wing of a wounded bird. At last she touched his ears, and then put the entire palms of her hands on his scalp, directly above.

"You're bald." She said, and her eyebrow quirked. "By choice?"

Derek huffs and glances sidelong at Spencer. Spencer avoids all eye contact, but Derek can tell he's smiling.

"Yeah, by choice."

She contemplated this, and it was comical in that she was still holding Derek's head in her hands, so it appeared as if his head was a Magic 8 Ball and she was wishing hard for anything but 'try again later' to come up. Eventually she came to a verdict, and smiled.

"I like it."

"Thanks. I like it also." Derek replied, chuckling.

"I'm bald by choice too." She pointed to her own head, which was spanking smooth.

"Oh?"

"Mmhm, I think the trend is going to catch on." She whispered, as if it were a conspiracy. Derek couldn't help but laugh and nodded.

"I agree." Derek said, and Cassie smiled, and it was the _same smile _as the one Spencer had smiled, that day.

It almost hurt to look at it.

In that moment, Derek believed in the power of that smile; in the absolute magic it possessed. It ran in Reid blood, in their veins, and it was distilled in such rarity in these ephemeral expressions of happiness that Derek couldn't deny the reality of how much he wanted to protect and be the source of that happiness; of that smile.

Suddenly, Cassie threw her arms around Spencer's middle, ending up half in his lap. It was an affectionate but unexpected gesture, but it appeared that Spencer was ready for it. He placed his arms around Cassie in a reciprocal manner, and began to pat her stomach, as if by habit.

"Do you two love each other?" Cassie asked, in the most innocent, random way possible. In the way only a child can.

Spencer and Derek were both speechless.

They had never discussed this before, although Derek didn't want to put Spencer on the spot, especially in front of his niece. It wasn't something he wanted Spencer to be pressured into, knowing wholly how he reacted to the constructs of certain social conventions. He was also pretty sure that Spencer wasn't anywhere near ready anyway, so he figured he would just tell Cassie what she wanted to hear.

"I love your uncle very much, Cassie." He said after a pause, and Spencer's gaze snapped to him with an intensity Derek had never noticed before. His expression was a mixture of surprise and wonder, and as Derek met his gaze, his heart plummeted in his chest in a swooping motion so monolithic Derek initially thought he might've had a heart attack. It was his body telling him to stop lying, and to accept the reality of it; he was in love with Spencer.

So Derek repeated with a solemn softness, _very much_, and this time it was more for Spencer than for show. It was the truth.

"That's good." Cassie said, almost to herself. "Everyone should love each other."

Spencer gave a smile so delicate and frail that Derek felt as if he might shatter in sympathy. He reached over, cradled Derek's face in his hands and kissed him, tender and slow. It was such a genuine and intimate thing and the entire moment felt like indescribable _magic_. Derek didn't need Spencer to say it back – he knew now.

But then Spencer grinned and slid his hand around to the back of Derek's neck, in a gesture so familiar now that it scared Derek, and squeezed affectionately.

"I love you Derek Morgan." He murmured. "So much. You might be Tragic Magic, but you're _my_ Tragic Magic."

Derek grinned.


End file.
